


in which merlin is protective and arthur is a little shit

by kaitlyn_chronicles



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Angst, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Boys In Love, Established Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gen, Hunger Games, Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death, Protective Merlin, Reincarnation, Whump, merlin whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:48:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23857864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaitlyn_chronicles/pseuds/kaitlyn_chronicles
Summary: The Hunger Games might be Merlin’s only chance to find the others, and he’s not about to let that opportunity slip away.Welcome to the 68th annual Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor
Relationships: Gwen/Lancelot (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 43





	1. The Reaping

**Author's Note:**

> In this, Merlin and co. die and reincarnate in different time periods. All of them grew up in Panem, but only Merlin remembers their past lives
> 
> Tags will be added as the story progresses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of this work might be a little slow, but I have plans for it, so don't give up on me!

It wasn’t common for Merlin to hate a specific life. He was usually able to find something good in each of them, even before Arthur and the others had started to join him in being reincarnated.

This life, however, just plain _sucked_.

From what he’s been told, he’s in a post-apocalyptic version of North America with crazy hierarchy issues and a psycho president. It wasn’t a great life in general, but it was only made worse when Merlin realized that absolutely no one he recognized was in his district.

Starting from the time he was seven and ending his ninth summer, memories of past lives came back to him. They ranged from his time in Camelot to the Victorian age to the invention of the smart phone.

This time of remembering also gave him back his purpose in life: Arthur. When he reached ten, Merlin had nearly gone crazy in his search for his other half, which yielded only one conclusion. Obviously, Arthur was not living in his district.

It wasn’t a question of whether or not his friends and lover had been born yet. Throughout their lives, they had all maintained about the same age relative to each other, with very few variations. Merlin had just reached sixteen, which meant Arthur would be most likely be eighteen, making him among the oldest that could be Reaped for this year’s Hunger Games.

Arthur was in District One. When they broadcasted the Reapings, Merlin didn’t bother looking at the stage. He only had eyes for his king, who seemed to stand out in the crowd despite being fairly short compared to the other boys. It had taken a while for Merlin to find him that very first Reaping, but over the years the two of them had seen each other at all stages of their lives. Seeing Arthur as boy as young as twelve wasn’t uncommon in their situation.

Unfortunately, with Arthur’s location and his impeccable fighting skills that don’t seem to diminish throughout their lives, there was no doubt in Merlin’s mind that Arthur had already been picked as the male tribute despite the Reaping not happening for another day. District One had a training program put in place to identify their two best fighters and have them volunteer for the Games. Of course, that’s just what the people in Twelve said. Their only living victor, Haymitch, was too much of a drunk to confirm or deny the rumors. 

Merlin could never pick out the others at the Reaping. Merlin’s magic, stronger with each life he lives, couldn’t tell him where the knights were, or even Gwen and Morgana, but it did tell him one thing: if Merlin wanted to find his friends, he’d have to volunteer at the Reaping tomorrow.

* * *

Merlin groaned when sunlight filtered in through the window. Moving a pillow over his face, he cringed as he remembered the decision he’d been wrestling with for most of the night. 

Screeching children was the first sound to register in his ears, though it was muffled by the pillow. He cringed as he heard something solid bang against his door. “Wake up, boys!” A voice called from outside. It was hard to tell, but it was probably old Ms. Warrens, one of the women who run the house Merlin lives in. Some might call the place an orphanage, but more often than not, parents who can’t afford children simply drop them off on the front step and leave. The kids weren’t necessarily orphans, just abandoned.

Merlin somehow always finds a way to stand out in his lives, however, because he _was_ an orphan. Both of his parents died in the Games. His mother, then seventeen, discovered she was with child in the spring, right before his father was Reaped in the summer. Merlin was sent off to the “orphanage” on Reaping Day the next year after his mother was selected from the bowl of names.

No one ever told him his parents names, and they wouldn’t let him watch reruns of their Games, but he had a sinking suspicion they were in fact Hunith and Balinor. For some reason, the curse thrust upon their group tended to keep familial relationships at least similar to their very first lives. It had led to some... complicated situations in the past. The first time Arthur and Merlin started dating, Uther and Balinor were part of opposing gangs. When Uther found out about them, he had Merlin shot and killed in a dirty alleyway. He died alone.

Merlin was brought out of the memory when Todd, his younger roommate, ran into their crummy dresser and let out a string of curses that sounded odd coming from the usually soft spoken boy. The warlock raised his eyebrows. "You're in a good mood this morning," he joked, hoping to ease the tension the rest of the day would surely bring.

"Not all of us are as uncaring about death as you seem to be," Todd shot back, the sharp tone accompanied by a glare.

 _'That's fair,'_ Merlin reasoned. After all, Todd had been the one to patch him up after he'd been attacked by a peacekeeper for sharing his distaste of the Hunger Games. Merlin shivered. He could still feel the baton coming down on his ankle and cracking the bone. That incident had happened on Reaping Day two years ago, and Merlin was still walking with a limp. He could’ve used magic to heal the bone correctly, but someone would've noticed. Despite what Todd seemed to think, Merlin wasn’t looking forward to dying any time soon, and he would surely be killed if the peacekeepers, or anyone for that matter, thought him a threat because of what he could do.

Todd must've taken his silence for sadness because the next words he spoke were gentle. "How many times is your name is this year?"

Merlin wished he had to think about it, but he didn't. The number was constantly in his head, handing over him like the blade of a guillotine. "Thirty-six," he stated grimly. Not that it mattered anymore. He was going into the Games one way or another. “You?”

”Eleven,” came the hesitant answer.

Merlin’s head shot up. “What the hell do you mean? How is your name in eleven times? You’re thirteen, Ms. Warrens wouldn’t allow you to take tessera.”

Todd busied himself with laying out clothes before he finally made eye contact with Merlin. “Juniper was starving. I had to do something.”

Juniper was Todd’s younger biological sister. She’d died only a few months ago from pneumonia.

”I still don’t understand how that comes to eleven,” Merlin said suspiciously. He was sure there had to be more going on here.

”Some of the younger kids needed food.”

Great, now Merlin was furious. “That’s what I’m for, Todd!” He shouted. “That’s what Mayella is here for, and Payton! We make sure the youngest children don’t starve, and we make sure kids your age don’t have to put their names in more than necessary!”

Todd shied away from Merlin. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I just...I knew you’d put your name in again, and I didn’t want you to. I don’t want to lose you.”

Merlin dragged a hand down his face, the other at his hip. From where he was standing, he could clearly see the tears shining in Todd’s eyes. Merlin sighed and brought the other boy in for a hug. Despite not getting a lot of food for most of this life, Merlin still managed to grow fairly tall, and his head fit snugly on top of the younger boy’s dark curls.

They would’ve continued the conversation (Merlin was still pissed), but another loud bang on their door was enough to get them moving.

Merlin tore off his sleep clothes and threw on a threadbare shirt with an equally worn pair of pants. He had some stuff to take care of before the Reaping and didn’t want his nice clothes getting dirty.

Todd, on the other hand, went to go set up the bath in the back of the house. He gave Merlin a nod as he headed out their bedroom door, but gave no other sign to acknowledge their conversation.

As soon as the door swung shut, Merlin felt himself relax. He hadn’t realized he was so tense. Rolling his shoulders a bit, he tried to work out some of soreness that seemed ever-present in his muscles. When he realized that was never going to happen, he squatted next to his bed (if you could call it that) and pulled out a small box from underneath. 

In it sat several jewelry pieces, made from precious metals found far beneath the surface. Merlin had used his magic to find them and bring them to the surface. The pieces would fetch a good price at the Hob, perhaps more than they rightfully should because of his connection with Greasy Sae, an old woman who sells bowls of soup to make a living. She seemed to have a soft spot for kids eligible for the Reaping because Merlin had seen her buying some rancid-looking wild dog meat from a young girl in braids.

Shoving the pieces into the pocket of his pants, Merlin made his way to what some might consider the home's kitchen. In all honesty, it only held a fire place, a sorry excuse of a table, and a couple of chairs. They're not exactly living in luxury, but between Merlin's jewelry, Payton's game, and Mayella's...means of bringing in money, they managed to feed every young mouth in the house most days. Sometimes they don't bring in enough, but the older teens are used to dealing with the hunger, and the younger kids can make do for a couple of days. 

Merlin passed through the kitchen to the entry way, only to be stopped by a small hand grabbing at his ankle. The warlock looked down and smiled brightly at the child. Elise was a new one, but she'd warmed right up to Merlin. If he remembered correctly, she was only two summers old. Before she came to the house, Elise's grandmother had been looking after her, but the woman succumbed to old age only a week ago. A thought ran through Merlin's head and he briefly dismissed it before reconsidering. If he brought Elise to the Hob with him, people would likely give him more money. He felt guilty about using a little girl to make his sales, but it had been a hard week and Merlin wanted to make sure the house had at least some money before he went off to the Games.

As he bent down and picked up the little girl, Merlin heard footsteps coming up behind him. It was Ms. Warrens. "Where do you think you're goin'?" she demanded. "It's Reapin' Day you stupid boy, the place will be covered in keepers!" Ms. Warrens refused to call them peacekeepers. She didn't think people so evil should get the word peace in their title. "-should know better than anyone not to go to the Hob today!" Apparently she was still talking.

"I'm not going to the Hob," he lied. "I was just-"

"You're just lyin' is what you're doing!" Ms. Warrens cut him off. Merlin opened his mouth to protest but the old woman carried on. "You don't go anywhere save the damned Hob and the woods, and I know for a fact you're not taking little Elise to the woods."

Merlin sighed and put Elise back on the ground. "Right then. Can I go now?"

"No!"

Rolling his eyes, Merlin took a step closer to Ms. Warrens and lowered his voice in case there were other children around. "You know as well as I do that there's a good chance I get Reaped today. I just want to get this last sale out of the way in case-"

"In case nothing!" the woman whispered angrily. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she reopened her eyes, they were soft and sympathetic. "You aren't going to be Reaped, Merlin. And if you are, you're going to win. You have the rest of your life to sell that jewelry, so just help the little ones get dressed and I'll work on your clothes." Ms. Warrens smiled sadly and placed a hand on Merlin's cheek. Merlin leaned into the touch, allowing himself this one moment of peace before he's taken to his death.

* * *

The Reaping. The one time a year everyone is forced to watch young children be given a death sentence by a piece of paper. Merlin hates it, but this year, as he stands in the crowd of other sixteen year olds, he realizes that he might actually miss his life in Twelve. It wasn't his best life by any means, hell, it wasn't even a good one, but there were people here he cared for and people who cared for him. Only problem was that he needed the others. He needed them like he needed oxygen. The only thing that kept him going was the small glimpse of Arthur he got every year. He was sad about leaving Todd and Ms. Warrens and all the rest of his makeshift family, but they weren't Arthur. They weren't the knights, and they weren't Gwen and Morgana.

Even so, Merlin made the decision to make sure his name was drawn to avoid having to volunteer. He believed his name being drawn from the bowl would be easier for Todd to deal with than volunteering in someone's place.

The spell was simple and taken care of as soon as the bowls were in his sight. The only thing missing now was their Capital representative to start the Reaping. They weren't kept waiting long, however, because the sound of heals clicking on the stage stairs were heard within minutes of everyone being settled into their spots. He looked to the representative, expecting to see their usual flashy woman, but that's not at all who he saw.

Instead, it was a figure who'd haunted his dreams for so many lifetimes, a woman who'd killed him and Arthur several times in the past. Morgause. She was dressed in black and gold, a rather terrifying getup in terms of Capital clothing, but it still looked ridiculously gaudy. It took Merlin several moments to realize he was holding his breath, and when he did finally breathe, he was shaking like a leaf. Of all the people, why her? She'd murdered him in their last life, and all Merlin could see was her cold smirk as she stood over him and watched him bleed out.

Payton, who was standing directly to his right, put a gentle hand on Merlin's arm; clearly he could see how much Morgause had affected him, though he probably thought it was nerves instead of Merlin being faced with his murderess.

Merlin was actually fairly surprised that Morgause lived in the Capital. In most of their lives, she'd been a formidable warrior, and now she was reduced to a Capital play-thing. It was sad, really.

He kept his eyes on her as the yearly video played, spewing nonsense about the generosity of the Capital or something. Merlin stopped listening after he was eight. When the video ended, Morgause stepped up to the microphone. "The time for waiting is over," she smiled, her Capital accent sounding strange to Merlin's ears. "Now, we will choose one brave male and female tribute to represent District Twelve in the Hunger Games!" She paused as if expecting applause, but none came. She cleared her throat. "As always, ladies first." Morgause stalked over to the female bowl, and Merlin couldn't help but wonder who his district partner would be. Would he be able to kill her to save Arthur? Or would it be a twelve year old who he also needs to protect? With a flourish of her hand, Morgause pulled a small slip of paper open and read the name. "Your female tribute from District Twelve... Mithian Nemeth."

Merlin felt his heart plummet as he recognized the name. How had he missed her? However, he got his answer when he saw her up on the stage. She was a year his junior, but she looked a lot younger. This Mithian looked nothing like the strong princess he knew in Camelot, nothing like the assassin he met during World War ll. The girl on stage was tiny, and seemed like she was trying to make herself small enough to disappear from the eyes of her district. Her body was bony and despite her best efforts, she still looked dirty. Probably from the Seam then, just like him.

He'd been so distracted by Mithian that he almost missed Morgause walking to the boys' bowl. Honestly, it was fitting that Morgause would be delivering his death sentence. She spent less time at this bowl than the other, clearly in a hurry. "Your male tribute for District Twelve... Merlin Emrys."

Despite knowing what was going to happen, Merlin still felt his heart stop when his name was spoken. He felt Payton's eyes on him as he slowly emerged from the crowd of children. He was escorted to the stage by two peacekeepers and thought everything had gone unusually smoothly until it happened. He tripped on the stairs. He felt his face burning with humiliation as he moved to his place beside Morgause and Mithian.

He found Todd in the crowd and made eye contact. The younger boy was openly crying as he gestured vaguely to his fingers. It took Merlin a moment to realize he was actually gesturing to something on one of his fingers. Merlin felt his heart swell as he realized what it was: his wedding ring, the one from his and Arthur's very first wedding. They'd gotten married in every one of their lives when it was possible and used the same ring every time. Merlin never told Todd the specifics of the ring, but the boy knew it was important to him. He must've grabbed it before they left in case Merlin was Reaped.

Merlin had just been planning on summoning it back to him when he had a moment alone to do so, but the fact that Todd had brought it for him spoke volumes for their friendship.

”Your tributes from District Twelve, Mithian Nemeth and Merlin Emrys! Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!” Morgause announced. There was scattered applause for a moment before silence fell upon them. Merlin turned to Mithian to shake her hand, and as they made eye contact, he realized he would have to be willing to kill her to protect Arthur. He wasn’t sure if he could do it.

The trip off the stage was short, but to Merlin it seemed like an eternity. He already had so much to do. First he had to get his ring and say his goodbyes. That would probably wouldn't be too hard. Once they were on the train, he'd have to get Mithian to remember who she is and who he is. Then he'd have to somehow find a way to find Arthur, impress the Capital, and get Arthur out of the Games alive. One less gruesome death for Arthur is all Merlin wants out of this life. He couldn't let any harm come to his king.

The peacekeeper in charge of taking him to say his goodbyes practically shoved him into the room. Merlin flinched as his weak ankle was forced to bear his weight before he caught his balance. He hadn't been thinking about it before, but the injured limb could end up being problematic if he wanted to impress Arthur enough to start a conversation at the very least.

Merlin didn't have time to ponder though because the door to his room was thrown open. He could barely see who came in before small but deceptively strong arms wrapped around his midsection. Todd's curls tickled Merlin's nose as he hugged the boy fiercely. Knowing they didn't have much time, Merlin pulled back and placed his hands on Todd's shoulders. "I need you to stay strong," he commanded. Todd looked like he wanted to argue, but Merlin pressed on. "There is every chance in the world that I won't come back from the Games, so I need you to accept that now and not get your hopes up. Do you understand me?"

Todd gave a faint nod and looked to his hands. He started to work Merlin's ring off his finger. "Here," he said, offering it to Merlin. "I thought you'd want it as a token."

"Thank you, Todd," Merlin murmured before pulling him into another hug, the ring clenched tight in one hand. 

It was only a couple seconds later that Ms. Warrens and Payton walked into the room. The old woman pulled him into a sobbing hug, and Merlin had to fight tears himself. He wasn't the first of her charges to go into the Games, and he'd seen what it did to her when they died. It was heartbreaking to think he would be putting her through it again.

Payton stood behind her. When Merlin met his eyes, a silent understanding passed through them. The other boy would do whatever it took to make sure the house didn't starve. Merlin broke the hug with Ms. Warrens and offered a hand to Payton. Said teen looked at his hand, met Merlin’s eyes once more, and pulled him in for a brief hug. “Try not to die,” he joked when they pulled apart.

Merlin attempted a smile, but it probably looked like more of a grimace. A peacekeeper opened the door behind Payton, and Merlin had to will himself not to panic as his small family was taken out of the room. It was the last time he would see them in this life. Perhaps in another they would meet again, but now Merlin had to focus on the mission at hand. 

Step one: get Mithian to remember.

Really, she should be one of the easiest ones, or at least she had been in the other lives they’d come across each other. All Merlin had to do was say a sentence, something that would spark her memory.

The ride to the train station was a somber affair. The people of District Twelve lined up along the road to get a final glimpse of the unfortunate duo, as if they were already saying their goodbyes. It was a tradition, one that Merlin took part in most years, but from the other side it made him feel sick.

Morgause didn’t bother to make conversation, and Merlin found himself relieved. He wasn’t sure he could handle civilized conversation with one of his tormentors, and he didn’t want to say anything to trigger her memory by accident. That would be disastrous.

Stepping into the train was like walking into another world. All around him, crystals and jewels sparkled in the–no doubt expensive–lighting. Food lined an entire wall of the train car. The last time he’d seen this much food was a couple lifetimes ago when he’d been born into the Netherlands royal family instead of his real parents.

Beside him, Mithian seemed just as stunned. Merlin knew she’d never seen this much luxury in her life, or at least in this life. 

”Alright!” Morgause said from behind them. The duo turned to face her. “You two get settled in, and I’ll go find Haymitch.” As she started walking, Merlin heard her mutter under her breath about bar cars and stupid men.

Merlin smirked at that before looking in Mithian’s direction, only to realize she wasn’t there. She was across the car, stuffing her face with food. Merlin called out to her, “You need to slow down, or you’ll get sick.”

The small girl stared at him, then at the food clutched in both of her hands, and gave a sheepish smile. “You’re right, of course,” she said politely. Merlin was floored by her manners. It seemed they didn’t go away throughout all their lives, the same as Arthur’s fighting skills and Merlin’s clumsiness never seemed to waver. Merlin supposed he also had his magic, but he was bitter about his clumsiness and took every opportunity possible to curse it.

The two of them were at a standstill for a minute until Merlin realized this was his opportunity to remind Mithian of who she was.

”Mithian,” he said gently. “I’m going to say some words that won’t make much sense right now, but I need you to trust me.” The once princess nodded hesitantly. Merlin took a deep breath as he remembered the words. “What sport is it when one side has dogs and spears and crossbows and the other nothing?“

That was the first thing he’d said to Mithian that wasn’t a part of his duty as a servant. It had worked last time he came across the woman, and he could only hope it would work again. 

At first, nothing happened. Mithian gave him a curious glance, only to double over the next second. Merlin crossed the room in the blink of an eye and placed a hand on the small of her back. The girl was moaning in pain as memories assaulted her. “Shhhh, it’ll be okay,” he comforted. “Just a couple more minutes.”

When non-magical people received their memories, it hurt like a bitch (as Gwaine had once eloquently stated) and left them completely wiped out. When someone like Merlin was given memories, it was spread out and a lot less painful. Well, less painful physically. Their mental states after a remembering left much to be desired. 

As far as Merlin knew, there was only a select few of them that had that kind of recollection period: himself, Morgana, Mordred, Morgause, and Arthur. No one knew if Arthur was included in the group because of the circumstances of his birth or because of his title as Once and Future King.

Luckily, the only one in the entire group that could make someone remember was Merlin, so he didn’t have to worry about Arthur accidentally saying something in the interviews to make Morgause go crazy Merlin and Mithian. Haymitch was strong (duh, he’d won a Quarter Quell), but Merlin seriously doubted he could hold his own against the psychopathic sorceress.

Next to him, Mithian slumped and Merlin was barely able to keep her from hitting the floor. She’d finally gone quiet and seemed to be sleeping. 

Merlin used a bit of magic to help him lift her quickly to the small couch, and had only just sat down himself when Haymitch stumbled into the room, followed by a disgruntled Morgause.

Their drunken mentor sniffed as he laid eyes on them. “What’s wrong with her?” he slurred, gesturing in Mithian’s general direction.

”I guess she was just tired,” Merlin replied. Haymitch gave a jerky nod and proceeded to run into one of the tables of food, sending the items flying. The warlock cringed. “Do you think, perhaps, you’ve had enough to drink?” The words were gentle, but the message clear. After centuries with Gwaine, he knew how to deal with drunk idiots.

Haymitch gave him a scathing glare. “No, I don’t.”

Merlin met the glare with his own and said, “You’re our mentor. You’re supposed to tell us how to survive, not show us how to drink ourselves to death.”

”Watch your mouth, boy,” Haymitch warned. “I’m the only shot you’ve got at making it out of that arena alive.”

The silent tension in the room following that statement was enough to make Merlin uncomfortable in the squishy chair he was in. “I’m going to take Mithian to her room. Where is it?”

”Through the far door, two cars down from this one,” Morgause supplied. “Yours is another car down.”

Merlin tilted his head in thanks and gathered the young woman in his arms. She made a small noise of discomfort but didn't wake. With concern, Merlin realized it was a lot easier to carry her than it should be to carry a fifteen-year-old girl.

Finding the room easily enough, Merlin whispered a small spell to open the door as to not disturb Mithian by moving his arms from where they supported her upper body and knees. The bedroom was just as extravagant as the main room, and he had no doubt his room looked the same. He placed Mithian gently on the bed and gave a heavy sigh. Now came the hard part. " _Oferhîeran me ðêah wæcnan ðanon êower swefan._ " The spell was spoken quietly, but Mithian reacted as though he'd blown an air horn in her ear and shot into a sitting position.

"What the hell is-" the girl looked up and saw the warlock's face. "Merlin?" Her small hand reached up to touch his cheek. "You... you're here. Well, of course you're here because we're on our way to the Games and we got Reaped and now we're surely going to die another horrible death and I'll have to do yet another one of these stupid rememberings and-"

Merlin's hand on her shoulder was enough to get her to quiet down. The warlock gave her a mischievous grin. "Do I have permission to hug you, m'lady?"

Instead of answering, Mithian wrapped her arms around Merlin and nuzzled into the crook of his shoulder and neck. Merlin was quite enjoying the moment when she suddenly pulled away. "Morgause!" she exclaimed. "Has she... you know..."

"No," Merlin answered immediately. "I don't think it's a good idea to make her remember in this life. Normally I would, just to see if we'd made any progress, but I don't want to make this trip any harder than it needs to be."

Mithian looked at him suspiciously. "Speaking of this _trip,_ why are you here? You could've easily taken you're name out if you wanted to, so there must be a reason." She sighed deeply as she realized the answer to her own question. "Arthur."

Merlin said nothing, only offering a small grimace in confirmation.

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to protect him," Mithian said calmly, "but this life is a lot different than the others. To save Arthur may mean killing twenty-two innocent people, including me, and then you'd have to sacrifice yourself. Are you willing to go that far?" Merlin opened his mouth to answer her, but Mithian place a finger on his lips. He glanced down at them in confusion, and then looked back to the girl in front of him. "I don't want a reply. I just want you to ponder on it before you rush in blind."

* * *

That night, Merlin did ponder it. Could he really kill all those people, those _children_ , to save the man he loved? Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately), he only ever came to one one answer.

The answer was a resounding yes every single time. He would kill all of them and more if it meant Arthur could be safe for at least one life.

Did that make him a terrible person? Probably, but he couldn't find it in him to care.

No one in that damn arena would touch the king if Merlin had anything to say about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spell translation:  
> "Oferhîeran me ðêah wæcnan ðanon êower swefan." - Hear me and awake from your slumber
> 
> I just Googled an Old English translator, so don't come for me with the spells. I'll use spells that are actually used in the show when the opportunity arises, but for now I'm just making them up as I go.


	2. The Capital+The Reunion

Breakfast the next morning was better than the previous night had been, but only just. Now he had Mithian back, but he also had to be careful of what he said around Morgause. In the past, her memories had been triggered easily, and Merlin didn't want to make the Avoxes scrape pieces of him off the inside of the train.

Haymitch didn't seem to be struggling too bad with a hangover, but that may be because he was already pouring half a flask into his morning tea, or whatever the hell he was drinking. "Did you two sleep well?" he asked mockingly, obviously knowing the answer.

"No, did you?" Merlin responded sarcastically.

"Like a baby."

Merlin wanted to put his butter knife through Haymitch's face (it really wouldn't be that hard), but was interrupted by a sharp intake of breath on his right. Mithian was up and out of her seat in an instant, the muffin she'd been eating completely abandoned. Merlin quickly went to her side as he took in what had made her stop eating her breakfast.

The Capital was smaller than he'd imagined. A lot bigger than Twelve, and a lot cleaner too, but it wasn't the largest city he'd seen. Still, coming up on it was quite the sight to behold.

Pulling into the train station, however, was a much different experience than he'd expected. Everywhere he looked, colors and sparkles and ridiculous head pieces overwhelmed his senses, and suddenly he found it hard to breathe. So many people ready to watch him kill or be killed. What would these people think when he started ruthlessly murdering children to protect a Career tribute? ' _They'll probably love you for it,_ " a small voice in his head reminded him. Right. These Capital people had no clue what the Games are like for the people in the districts. The train stopped momentarily as if to display the two of them before moving on to a more private area.

Here, Morgause escorted them off the train and through a tunnel in the side of the wall. "We're going to take you two to get cleaned up, and then you'll be given directly to your stylists." They arrived at a door, apparently leading to whoever was supposed to clean them. "Here we are. Now, Haymitch and I aren't going to be able to see you before the parade, so be good and do whatever your stylist asks of you."

With that, Morgause continued walking, tailed by Haymitch, who was barely stumbling despite probably being black-out drunk at this point. Okay, maybe it wasn't that bad, but still, there was no reason for him to be drinking so early in the morning.

An avox opened the door to let them into what looked like a very long, empty waiting room. The doors closest to them were marked as District 1 male and District 2 female. The avox started walking to the end of the room, and Merlin and Mithian had no choice but to follow. For every door on their left, there was a corresponding door on their right. Merlin figured that must be where their stylists would be. 

Mithian’s door was the very last one, separated from Merlin’s by a single room. For some reason, the Capital felt it necessary to break up the districts. What were they gonna do, plot against the Games with a bunch of Capital workers nearby? Yeah right.

Being “cleaned” was the second most embarrassing thing that had ever happened in Merlin’s many years. The first involved an Irish man and lingerie, but that moment was far from his mind as the Capital bootlickers scrubbed who skin so hard he was positive they should be able to see their reflections in the rawness. They hosed him several times, much to his dismay, and even tried to cut his hair shorter. Merlin, of course, refused and only allowed them to trim it up a bit. Arthur liked his longer hair, and he was going to keep the style for as long as he could.

Oh Arthur...

Thinking of his lover made the entire thing slightly more bearable, but not much. Merlin was terrified as he was directed through the door he had entered through and into one of the right side rooms. What if his stylist was just as bad as the ones who’d basically stolen his clothes and power washed him?

To Merlin’s relief, his stylist actually seemed relatively normal. She still wore a platinum blonde wig (or perhaps it was just dyed) and her makeup was overwhelming, but her clothes seemed more muted than other Capital citizens. When she spoke, her voice was soft. "Nice to meet you, Merlin," she greeted. "I'm your stylist, but you probably knew that already. I'm Portia, and I'm not only here to help you look nice. I want to help you survive in any way I can."

Merlin gazed at her warily, slightly stunned by her kindness. "Erm, thank you. I... sorry, you just aren't what I was expecting."

"Well what were you expecting?" Portia had an amused glint in her eyes.

"You just seem so normal, I suppose. Not that you don't look pretty or stylish or whatever, but I mean I was just-"

"Merlin!" Portia laughed. "It's fine, really. This is my first year as a stylist, and I didn't want to draw too much attention to myself. Shocking right? Someone in the Capital who doesn't want attention?"

Merlin chuckled before sobering quickly. "So I suppose you have to be here then? Just like me?"

"Well, technically I would have to be here, yes, but I wanted District Twelve."

"Why?" Merlin asked, genuinely shocked. "No one ever want us. I'm pretty sure our own mayor doesn't want our district."

"I want a chance to prove that the outer districts can be just as good as all the others. I have a friend, Cinna, and he'll be joining me in Twelve in a few years when he's ready. Together, we're going to show those prats from District One how amazing the other districts can be." Merlin laughed internally at the familiar insult to One, but didn't say anything. "Now that's over," Portia huffed, "let's get started. First-"

Merlin interrupted before she could get another word out. "Where's my ring?"

"What ring?" Portia seemed confused.

"The people who cleaned me took my clothes and my ring. It's my token and I would rather keep it on at all times."

Portia sighed. "I'll see what I can do, but we need to get you dressed first." She walked over to a rack on the side of the room. There was only one thing on it, covered with a tarp. Portia ripped the covering away to reveal a black top and pair of pants. She looked to Merlin with a smirk. "Let's get started."

Honestly, undressing in front of Portia was a lot less embarrassing then being undressed by the first idiots. She wasted no time helping him into the top. It was a sleeveless blazer with buttons cutting diagonally across his chest. The material was soft and almost shimmering in the room's bright light. The pants were made of the same kind of fabric, but were a lot less intricate. Portia shoved some expensive-looking shoes on his feet and set him up in front of a mirror. The suit hugged him tightly, but not in an unflattering way. Really, it made him look pretty good. He also felt good, but quickly realized that this was the Capital's plot. They wanted to butter up the tributes before killing them all for their own selfish pleasure.

Portia must've been able to sense the change in his mood because she was soon sitting him down in a chair on the other side of the room. "We have some finishing touches to put on before you're ready," she explained. These finishing touches were simple at first; just a little bit of product in his hair to keep it in place, along with a bit of makeup to help his sunken cheeks and eye bags. He really hadn't slept well at all. The next couple of things, however, added a bit of Capital to his look. Portia had a box of black gems and was carefully applying them. There were a couple small ones on the outsides of both his eyes, as well as larger ones on his shoulders and arms. His stylist was focused as she formed an intricate pattern on his upper arms.

When they were finally done, Merlin once again looked at himself in the mirror. He looked... nothing like he'd expected. In the past, District Twelve's parade costumes were fairly atrocious and repetitive, but this was different. Unique.

He didn't get long to look before Portia was pulling him out of the room, through a door he hadn't noticed before. "I'm going to get your ring as soon as I deliver you to your chariot," she told him, "but I'm not sure if I'll make it back before you have to mount up. I'll do the best I can."

"Thank you," Merlin said, and found he actually meant it. He didn't want to like any of these Capital bigots, but Portia was different. She cared.

The walked through a long hallway for another minute before Portia spoke again. "Why do you have a limp?" Her tone was curious, but her eyes betrayed some of her concern.

Merlin hesitated for a minute, unsure if he should tell her the truth. After all, maybe she was nice, but what if she stopped being kind after finding out he'd disrespected a peacekeeper? In the end though, he decided to not lie. "I yelled at a peacekeeper on Reaping Day a couple years ago," he explained. "Told him to take his precious Hunger Games and shove it up his ass. He didn't find me nearly as funny as I found myself and broke my ankle for it. Been limping ever since."

"I'm sorry that happened to you," Portia said sadly.

Merlin looked ahead of them and saw the waiting chariots. From what he could see, no one else was there yet. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have run my mouth."

When they arrived at District Twelve's horse-drawn chariot, fear surged through Merlin's body. Even from where they were now, the roar of the crowd could be heard clearly as they awaited this year's tributes. Portia instructed him to wait by the horses as she went back to find out where his ring had ended up. Merlin was content to wait with no company but the horses, but was interrupted by footsteps in the hallway he had just come from. When he saw who it was, his heart stopped. He couldn't breathe.

Arthur, in all his ridiculous, Capital-looking glory, emerged from the tunnel alone. Merlin couldn't see anyone else coming up behind him, nor could he hear anyone. Without even thinking, the warlock moved towards Arthur, determined to make him remember, but was stopped when the king's eyes met his. Strangely, there was a look of recognition in Arthur's eyes. Merlin though it was odd, but realized One's tributes might've already watching the Reapings from the other districts.

Nothing could've prepared him for Arthur suddenly running full speed in Merlin's direction. The younger boy went to take a step back, but realized the wild look in Arthur's eyes was not anger, as it had been at their first meetings in some other lives. It was desperation. The blond staggered to a halt less than an arms length away from Merlin. He could easily reach out and touch the other tribute, but Merlin restrained himself. He didn't know what was happening.

Merlin barely had time to consider the situation before Arthur was upon him, lips crashing onto his own. Lost in the familiarity of the kiss, Merlin let his guard down. All the doubts and unease about the past five minutes were washed away when Arthur pulled him closer and deepened the kiss. In the back of his mind, a small voice was reminding him that there were probably several cameras trained on them right now, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Somehow, Arthur was here and remembered Merlin by himself. On that thought, Merlin gently pulled away from his lover, keeping their hands intertwined. The blond was flushed and his eyes were glazed over as Merlin started speaking. "How-"

"The Reaping," Arthur answered breathily. "You tripped, you clumsy idiot, and it triggered my memories. I don't think I've gotten all of them back yet, but I have enough to know how much I've missed you."

Tears were streaming down Merlin's face (as they usually did at these damned reunions), but the warlock laughed. "Of course me being clumsy would be powerful enough to make you remember. You and that stupid brain of yours will always be a mystery to me."

"You love it," Arthur teased.

At that, Merlin started tearing up again. "I do," he said. "I love everything about you." He pulled Arthur into a tight embrace. "I missed you so much, Arthur."

The embrace lasted for a minute before Arthur suddenly pulled away and grabbed Merlin's shoulders. The older boy's face turned from peaceful to dark in half a second. "Have you watched the Reapings yet?" he demanded.

Merlin shook his head. "Our mentor said we would watch them after the parade."

"I'm going to tell you something, and you need to promise not to freak out. Can you do that for me? It's very important that you stay calm."

"Yes, of course," Merlin answered immediately. He didn't know what Arthur was about to tell him, but clearly it was serious.

Arthur took a deep breath. "The other tributes..." he started. "they... erm, well..."

"Spit it out, dollophead."

"The other tributes are our friends." Arthur's voice broke on the last word.

Merlin's eyes got wide. He can't mean...

Arthur pressed on. "The knights, Gwen, Morgana, even Mordred and Kara... they're all here as tributes. And we're going to have to fight them to the death."

**Author's Note:**

> Comments keep me motivated and I'd love to hear what you guys have to say! Share your criticisms, compliments, and any ideas I might be able to include in the rest of the work!


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